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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27858014">in the next life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scentedrose/pseuds/scentedrose'>scentedrose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>League of Legends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Flashbacks, Forbidden Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Lost Love, M/M, Non-Chronological, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Past Lives, Sick Character, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:08:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27858014</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scentedrose/pseuds/scentedrose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>'promise to find me in the next life'<br/>'of course, my darling'</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aphelios/Sett (League of Legends)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. settrigh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This takes place in Runeterra with the general Runeterra lore, but I will be shifting things around to fit the story. The character deaths occur in the start - think Shakespeare style.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="indented">Will you find me in the next life?” The words are whispered so carefully, so fearfully. The violet color is so dim compared to the vibrancy that his lover was used to after so many years. Yet, the opposing eyes are equally as lacking luster. They aren’t surprised as each starts to feel the cold that had already settled in their bones start to wrap around their throats. </p>
  <p>“Do you think I could ever let you go, my darling?”</p>
  <p>“No. Nor I you. I love you.” </p>
  <p>“And I, you. Rest… let me… let me hold you one final time.” </p>
  <p>Bodies pressed together to share the last bit of warmth is not enough. Their limbs are entangled, their hearts beating together even as they slow. The chill of the wind doesn’t even burn their skin anymore. The snow is almost numbing as it builds up around them. So many words are to be said, but as they gaze into one another’s eyes, they knew them all without speaking. </p>
  <p>Violet eyes close first, a final breath released. </p>
  <p>Yellow eyes soon follow, a single tear sliding from them only to disappear in the too cold ground beneath the two in their final resting place. </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>*</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Another blow connects with his opponent and Sett feels the triumph and roar of the crowd before the body even hits the floor. He lets out a bark of a laugh, ears atop his head twitching with the excitement that thrums within him. Adrenaline pulses through his veins. He feels on top of the world as he finishes the last fight of the night. The payout is worth the broken rib and bruised jaw. It’ll heal soon enough. </p><p>When the crowd has dispersed enough, the half-breed makes his way over to the cashier, knowing his earnings are enough to realistically keep him out of the pit for the next month. It’s something he knows the Boss hates — Sett is such a sight to behold that he brings in some of the largest crowds and largest bids. The crowd still thinks that there will ever be an opponent to take him out. </p><p>“The Boss wants to see ya. He has yer cut.” </p><p>That is not what Sett wants to hear. The fur along his spine bristles. He would rather not have to speak to the man after such a triumphant night. He’d rather head out and celebrate for the next few hours before the sun rises. This would surely sour his mood. </p><p>“Fine.” Yet, Sett knows better to refuse, and if he wants his money it’s not like he has a choice. </p><p>Making his way up through the underground halls, passing few people as he does, Sett tries to relax the tension in his muscles. The adrenaline continues to pulse through him. It’s not surprising as he likes to be prepared when stepping into the office after a quick knock to the door. </p><p>Standing at 7’10, Sett is not a  Vastaya to mess with. He is sure that The Boss would never dare to look at him sideways despite the power and control that he holds. His red curls are untamed even though he had started out with them in a tie behind his neck. Sweat causes some of the shorter ones to stick to the side of his face even as his breaths slow.</p><p>“Sett! My boy,” The Boss is an older man, hair peppered, eyepatch over his left eye and a scar that trails out from it. He’s always so well dressed; white button down with the top few undone, a gold necklace hanging in the space; cuffs are rolled up to his elbow, tattoos littering all along his bared flesh; pants likely well fitted and made of material worth more than all of Sett’s belongings combined. “Come, have a seat. Can I get you a drink?” </p><p>“No thanks, just my money.” </p><p>Although Sett’s tone had been flat, the Boss laughs heartily. The look in his dark eyes is not to be trifled with. If he didn’t have his money, though, Sett wouldn’t be standing there obediently. </p><p>“Come. Sit.” </p><p>It’s not a request. </p><p>“Good.” He speaks, rising from his own seat as he grabs a couple of glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Sett hates the taste, but says nothing as one is poured for him after he’s sat <em> obediently. </em> “Now, you won a pretty coin tonight. I’d like to make a deal with you.” </p><p>“What kinda deal?” Sett speaks from the rim of his glass before he takes a gulp of the thick liquid. It’s expensive, and better than other whiskey he’s had, but Sett still doesn’t like it. He schools his features not to show that, though. “I just want my money, boss. I ain’t lookin’ for nothin’ else.” </p><p>“I’m told you could use some extra money… for your mom.” </p><p>Sett can’t stop the low growl that vibrates from his chest. His eyes darken without his meaning to. His fur bristles and his muscles unconsciously tense, preparing for a fight. “What do ya know of my momma?” It’s hardly a question and more of a demand. No one speaks of his mother and Sett would make sure everyone knew that. </p><p>His reaction has the intended effect. The Boss is no longer smiling. His brown eye widened slightly, but he’s sitting back in his chair as if that bit of distance would keep Sett from reaching over the desk between them to strangle him or tear his throat out with the fangs that are shamelessly bared to him. </p><p>“It isn’t a threat, my boy. I just think we could help each other out. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.” </p><p>“I don’t want none of yer help. I just want my money.” Sett is clear about it. He downs the rest of the whiskey. When he sets it down, it’s impressive that it doesn’t shatter with the force he applies. The redhead is holding his hand out without qualms. If the Boss wants to fight him, Sett will happily do so; he just prefers if it isn’t without witnesses to vouch for his win. </p><p>The Boss seems to contemplate if Sett was really serious. Why he would think the Vastaya is playing is beyond Sett’s comprehension. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to stand there for much longer as the Boss reaches into his drawer to pull out the large pouch of money that Sett knows he doesn’t need to bother counting. The Boss would never short him, not the Beast-Boy Bastard. </p><p>“Thanks.” </p><p>Sett doesn’t look back once he has his money and it isn’t until he’s halfway home does the fur along his spine finally settle and his heart no longer prepares for a fight to the death. He no longer has any interest in going for a drink with the chance of finding a warm body to occupy his thoughts for the night. </p><p>Sett sighs and winces when it irritates his broken rib. It’ll keep him down for a day or two, but he’s not worried. He’s more worried about what his momma will say about the discoloration along his jaw. She’s asleep now when Sett opens the door and will hopefully let Sett sleep in late. One could dream.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. aphelios</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Long fingers are so skilled that breaths are hitched and thoughts are destroyed before they can form. Every sound that falls from swollen lips is broken and desperate. Even though he knows that he’ll never be without his lover’s touch, he can’t help but crave more and more of him as he does every time they can lay together. </p>
  <p>“Sh, sh… oh, darling. I have you… relax for me, yeah?” </p>
  <p>“Please… you must hurry. We don’t… don’t— ah!” The noise is too loud and all they can do after the fact is laugh softly into one another’s mouths. “Damn you. You’re going to get us caught.” </p>
  <p>“Maybe I want people to know just how well I love you.” </p>
  <p>“You are obscene. I don’t know why I put up with you.” </p>
  <p>“Because you love me.” </p>
  <p>For a moment, in the dead of night where the breeze rolls over their heated flesh and chills them from the sweat that coats their skin, they stare at one another with nothing but that pure love that they speak from. Yellow is the first to break, looking down to better prepare and hurry it along as he is aware of how little time they have. He hates to admit it but will take any moment that he has with this beautiful man he calls his own. </p>
  <p>“Oh…” This noise is more pleased, just as desperate as the others. “Oh, but I do love you.” The words are spoken so matter-of-factly. Then again, it is a matter-of-fact as far as they’re concerned. It’s all that matters. </p>
  <p>There’s no need to speak more, not when their bodies are soon joining and hot breaths with restrained whines and whimpers and groans are all that are allowed. </p>
  <p>*</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>“You must not go, Aphelios!” </p><p>“I have to. I can’t… there’s nothing for me here, Diana. You know this. I can’t… I can’t deny it any longer.” </p><p>“What will Alune say? What will the elders say? You will be imprisoned if you try to return!” </p><p>Their voices are hushed and yet equally desperate. Diana’s fingers are curled tightly around Aphelios’ thin wrist. He looks so determined that it worries her. She can’t imagine losing the man she has come to be so close to. She considers him a close friend, part of her. It hurts when he says there’s nothing there for him, but she knows it isn’t a slight against her. There’s more that he needs, more that he can’t fight on this mountain. </p><p>“And what will I tell Alune? That you left? That you think you can find—” </p><p>“Nothing. You will tell her nothing. If you care for me at <em> all </em> Diana, you will not speak a word to her or anyone. You must do this for me. I never ask you for anything. But this, please… I beg of you: Do not tell anyone.” </p><p>“They will notice you’re missing.” </p><p>Aphelios sighs and turns away. His mauve eyes look to the sky sadly. The moon knows what he’s doing, her light shining so brightly on them and giving Aphelios this courage that he has needed to follow through with this long desired plan. This is his chance and as much as he doesn’t want to hurt Diana, or Alune, he can’t linger any more. The moon will be his guide and he must utilize <em> her </em> light while it still shines bright. </p><p>“Aphelios… I… please, be safe.” </p><p>It is with shock that he looks at her, the color of his eyes settling to a soft heather as appreciation floods him. “Truly? You will allow me to leave?” </p><p>“I won’t <em> allow </em> you to do anything, Aphelios… but I know that there is no stopping you once you have made up your mind. And I also know… there is something out there for you and you will not be happy until you find it.” Diana is not an emotional person, but she has grown too attached to Aphelios to let him go without a fight. “Here, since you must leave… take this for protection.” </p><p>“I have the moon, Diana—” </p><p>“Do not argue.” Her words are snapped quickly. Her fingers curl around the chain she wore at all times. The pendent etched with the sacred words of the Lunari, promising protection and guidance for the nights in which <em> she </em> does not shine. “Wear this always. And… only return when you are ready.” </p><p>Aphelios allows his best friend to slip the necklace around his neck, feeling the strength emenate from it already. He will cherish it and the look he gives to the woman says as much. </p><p>“Goodbye, Diana.” </p><p>“Goodbye.” </p><p>Aphelios didn’t know where his feet were leading him until he was too tired to go on. Travelling even when the moon has set, he feels the light continue to burn within his heart, telling him to continue on until he couldn’t any longer. He knew not where he was despite having been sent out on so many missions in the past. It’s odd that he ended up in unfamiliar lands, but he didn’t question it. He felt <em> her </em> power continue to lead him, urging him to speak with the men on the port. They doubted his purpose and sincerity until he produced all the money that he had to give. And only then did they no longer care why he wanted to be transported to Ionia. </p><p>Ionia is a land that Aphelios had heard of from many but had never visited himself. He had no reason to. It’s large with many types of people and creatures that could give Aphelios more problems than would be worth. Aphelios does his best to keep his head down, trying to find the path he’s meant to be on. </p><p>“Hey pretty boy. You ain’t from ‘round here, are ya?” </p><p>Aphelios doesn’t turn to the voice, doesn’t think it could be directed at him. He has no interest in engaging with anyone. Nothing feels right; he’s not there yet. </p><p>“Hey! I’m talkin’ to ya!” </p><p>As much as he tries, Aphelios can’t get away fast enough. His arm is gripped and he’s tugged back, the hood pulled from his head. The tattoo across his eye makes it quite clear who he is, <em> what </em> he is. It gives Aphelios little time to react, but he’s twisting under the man’s arm to break the hold it has and slip out of arm’s reach. It’s just enough time to pull the bottle he had tucked away in the pouch on his hip. The bottle is quickly emptied when he uncorks and pours it into his mouth. </p><p>The pain is unbearable. It burns as it slides down his throat, spreading from his gut and to his limbs, sliding through every vein. It takes each and every sense from him, his breath stolen, and he wants to drop to his knees. Seconds feel like hours and he wants to throw up, get rid of the poison he had just consumed even if it’s what he needs at that moment. </p><p>By the time he comes to, the initial man who had grabbed him is once again coming at him, though with three others surrounding Aphelios as well. Is it because he’s Lunari? Is it because he’s a <em> ‘pretty boy’? </em> There’s little that Aphelios can do but move to a defensive position, barely taking another strike from the man before his sister makes herself known. </p><p>
  <em> /I am with you. Duck! Swing to your left./ </em>
</p><p>Aphelios doesn’t hesitate as he obeys his sister, ducking and punching with as much force as he could muster into the man’s rib cage . It’s just as his sister said; it cripples the man, knocking him down and out of breath. </p><p>
  <em> /Behind you, Phel!/  </em>
</p><p>Aphelios doesn’t turn in time, but once the other attacker is wrapping his arm around Aphelios’ neck, he’s already prepared himself to force the other’s weight against him, flipping him up and over onto the ground in seconds. </p><p>
  <em> /Run! You have time! Go down the alley and over the gate./ </em>
</p><p>It has never occurred to Aphelios to go against his sister’s instructions. Alune has never once led him wrong. So he runs with all his might, urged on with adrenaline, determined to get away and not have more trouble than he needs. He’s tired, he’s hungry, and he feels no closer to the one that he’s looking for. It doesn’t occur to him that he’s gone the distance she directed him to and then some. </p><p>His heart is racing and his palms feel sweaty. His fingers are twitching as if they are waiting for the weapons that would usually be summoned to their grip for a fight. But Aphelios hadn’t wanted more than to just escape. Having Alune just gives him the upperhand and more awareness of the quarrel. </p><p>
  <em> /Go back to the dock, Aphelios. Return home./  </em>
</p><p>Aphelios winces even as he’s come to a slow walk. He draws up his hood and lets the shadow hide the tattoos that give him away. Her words echo through his skull and his throat is too restricted for him to form words that she would understand. Instead, feelings of frustration mount within him. </p><p>
  <em> /Come home to where you belong, Phel. There is nothing out there for you but strife./  </em>
</p><p>He grits his teeth together. He’d rather suffer the pain of the poison continuing to pulse through his veins without her insistent worries. They are doing him no good when he is as determined as he is. Aphelios can't silence her, though, can't ignore her words spoken to him. He can't cover his ears to get away from her urgings to return home, to return to his duty. He can't run from her scolding and her pleas to listen to reason. She won't understand why he's doing this. Diana didn't, and Alune won't. Aphelios just has to wait. The poison will seep from his body eventually. He just has to wait.. </p><p>
  <em> /Phel.../ </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. settrigh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>Their heart beats are always in sync, especially once their skin touches. It’s always enough to draw them together in ways they never should be. Neither care of the forbidden rule as their mouths collide and their bodies align. It’s always important that their hearts blend together in these moments of secrecy. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Fingers brush against one another, almost shyly even if this is something they’d done countless times. Soft breaths in the form of chuckles are released between them and they can’t help how they lean against one another. The shadow of night keeps them hidden, though the jovial laughter of drunken patrons around them are paying no mind to what goes on just outside of the establishment. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>“Darling… stop… you’re tempting me.” </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>“</span>
    <em>
      <span>I’m</span>
    </em>
    <span> tempting </span>
    <em>
      <span>you?</span>
    </em>
    <span> Oh, don’t make me laugh. You’re the one who kept feeding me drinks.” </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>“And you have told me how warm they make you… and I only intend to make you feel warmer, my love.” </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>“Oh…” </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>A hand under a shirt, touching bare skin, a breath that’s now a sweet moan releases into the air. They must be quiet, even as a beautifully arched back is pressed against the wall and legs spread with ease. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>“There… oh…”</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>“Here? Sh, you must be quiet, my darling.” </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>The noise that is released next is more restrained, but no less needy. Flesh erupts in chill-induced bumps when heated lips draw across them. It’s almost too much. And there is no holding back the next sound when teeth nip and scrape at the delicate flesh of a long, pale neck. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>“No, no… take me home,  please… Oh…” </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>“As you wish…” </span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>*</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sett’s fingers brush aside the strands of his mother’s hair, revealing her features that are tired and gaunt. She’d been sick for days at this point and yet Sett is doing the best he can to care for her. He’s already gone through all their money to pay their taxes, their bills, their food, and what little he’s been able to afford for medication that he knows is price-gouged because it’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>half-breed </span>
  </em>
  <span>asking for it. It makes his blood boil and yet his mother always told him to not waste his energy on those undeserving. If only she knew of how he got all the money they needed in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Momma…” Sett whispers, looking at the tired smile that the woman tries to give him. He sighs softly and shakes his head. Her skin is so flushed, her face red with fever and yet the rest of her body so cold. He does his best to bundle her up tightly. “Tell me what more to do…” His words are spoken so desperately. He doesn’t know what he would do without this woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing everything, my Settrigh. You’re doing so well…” She tries to lift her hand to touch Sett’s ears — he assumes this because she always so gently and affectionately touches him — but her muscles are so weak that he catches her hand midway through the motion to help guide it up to his ears that twitch excitedly at her touch. He will never not want her to baby him and give him these small affections. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna go get another job okay, momma? Ya need more medicine. I’ll only be gone for the night, okay?” He leans down to kiss her forehead, not really giving her a choice in the matter. He needs to get her healthier. There is no choice in the matter for either of them. “Ya just rest. Try and drink as much water as ya can, I’ll come home soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine, my little wolf.” A phrase she’s called him since a child, when he had appeared to be smaller than all the other Vastaya, as though his human heritage would take the forefront when it came to his physique. They were all proven wrong when he surpassed many of them. His momma’s blood is strong, he likes to boast. He is proud to take after her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love ya, momma.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sett stays just long enough to see her eyes flutter shut, her breath evening out. He leaves with only one destination in mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Night has fallen and it’s been dark for a few hours, the moon just over half and lighting the alleys for the most part. There’s a bustle of activity from those who tend to thrive at night and very few even glance at Sett when he walks by them. He’s a large Vastaya — but of half-breed status and so very low in their minds. It doesn’t matter. Sett knows he could prove them all wrong with ease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he arrives at the Pit, there’s already a fight in progress. The crowd is fairly large that night and it bodes well for Sett. If he can find his way into the line-up, then there’s quite a good chance that he could make money worth the trouble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Working his way around the edges of the crowd and into the partial underground establishment, Sett can’t see the fight but can hear that it’s bringing a very excitable response from the bloodthirsty crowd. Sett knows that it doesn’t take much to rile them up. As he works his way around, he’s stopped by a beauty of a human woman, her garnet eyes piercing up at him with long raven hair over bared shoulders. Tattoos covered her fawn colored skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.” It’s sultry when she speaks and it catches Sett’s attention — which he is sure is her goal.  “I didn’t see you on the roster.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sand shaded eyes look down at her. She stands taller than other human women, yet still so much shorter than Sett. But nothing about her tipping her head up comes off as submissive. It garners respect from the Vastaya. “I ain’t yet. I plan on fighting then. Ya seen me before?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her laugh is short, though nearly hidden by a shout from the crowd. It’s melodic. “You’re who's gotten me so rich. I’d never bet against you, honey.” The woman’s fingers slide along Sett’s forearm as if they’re familiar with one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yer support is ‘preciated. Now, darlin’, I gotta go get on the roster. ‘Pose I could make ya some money tonight, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t, I could always earn it another way.” Her body isn’t pressed up against Sett purely because they're crowded in. The warmth is noted and</span>
  <em>
    <span> much</span>
  </em>
  <span> more appreciated than her support. Sett can’t help how he licks his lips. It’s been quite some time since he’d had a body pressed to his. This isn’t what he’s here for tonight and as much as he could possibly be compelled to lay with her, he has to fight. It seems that his hesitation gives her an answer. Her rose lips upturn into a knowing smile. “How about you find me after the fight, big guy? Then we can talk some more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They separate with a bit of longing on Sett’s part. To be reminded of the warmth of a woman’s flesh is tempting and almost distracting by the time he makes it to where he needs to be. Thankfully, it doesn’t take much convincing to get him into a fight with the possibility of a second. It isn’t the prize fight as he would prefer, but he knows he can’t be picky at a time like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the night is over, Sett realizes that he took a few more hits than he should have. His jaw is already bruising, his lip is busted. There are a few more cuts to add to the plethora of scars that riddle his arms already. The knuckles on his right hand are bruised and bloody. The weight of the gold he holds in his left hand is enough to dull the pain. Adrenaline helps a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, did you forget about me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sett turns when he exits the building with the rest of the crowd that is slowly making their way out. It’s loud and just as bustling before as patrons either drunkenly stumble home or go out for more drinks. Sett ignores the couple just further down fucking in plain sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could I forget about ya, darlin’?” The fur lining his spine bristles and his ears twitch atop his head. He sees her eyes flicker up to them but ultimately meet his own. He knows the look when he sees it, and knows that his own mirrors the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something more sparks within him while he looks to the woman who approaches him so boldly. Something akin to familiarity even though Sett knows he has never met this woman before. It tugs at his heart and his fingers itch to touch her flesh, embrace her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming?” Her head has turned, her hair now cascading down her back as she steps in the direction that she wants Sett to follow. He has yet to get her name, but it doesn’t matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. aphelios</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Do you think we’re meant to be together?” It’s a question that has sat on the tip of his tongue since the moment they had made this decision. They couldn’t hide how they feel nor would they attempt to deny it any longer. Things feel better this way, like this is how it was supposed to be. </p>
  <p>
    <span>The breeze of early summer caresses at their skin. Curly red hair ruffles with it and draws another smile from the companion resting in his lap. His fingers slide across his neck and caress at his jaw with tenderness. There’s such tenderness when dark honey meets mauve eyes that are currently colored lilac. There is never a lack of awe watching those eyes change with his mood. Such power is held behind them.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>“Why wouldn’t we? I feel as though we are… don’t you?” </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Another breeze and the grass tickles at flesh. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>“I think we are.” </span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>*</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Many nights passed since Aphelios had spoken to his sister. He refuses to consume what little of the poison that he has left. It’s enough for emergencies. He has to leave it at that. And so he’s avoiding danger, creeping through the shadows and sticking to himself with his hood up and his head down. He’s managed to come across a cheap tavern that has an inn on the second floor. The room is cheap to rent and no one asks him questions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His exploration through the city is less than fruitful. Nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels</span>
  </em>
  <span> right anymore. The moon can only guide him so much. He feels that he should be in Ionia, but wonders if his feelings had been misled. Did </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> only lead him here to satisfy his curiosity? To prove him wrong? It’s hard to not be doubtful when each day he returns to the inn and the rickety bed that hurts his shoulder without any help. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aphelios sits in a far table in the corner, his back against it to give him full view of the room. No one could come near him without him having spotted them first. There’s a mug of cider before him and a half eaten plate. The meat is left untouched. Aphelios hasn’t touched meat in years. His mauve gaze scans the room, looking for anyone who may give him information and he settles back in his seat with no luck and dwindling hope. It’s very unlikely that there is help in a place like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Next round on me! For the whole house!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cheer would be startling if Aphelios were anyone but who he is. The occupants cheer and laugh with drunken joy at the prospect of more beer. Aphelios, on the other hand, simply watches as the dark haired man dressed in barely matching or fitting clothing steps to the bar to pay with a large sum of money. From where he sits, the Lunari can see the dirt among his fingers and up his arms. There’s some that seems to be plastered to his neck with sweat. A gold necklace rests against his chest as he turns to sit on a barstool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gods! By the sun, that beast is a force to be reckoned with! I told ya! Never bet against him!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I jus’ don’t get it. He a half-breed bastard. How did he beat that Vastaya? It ain’t makin’ sense.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aphelios turns his attention away from the conversation. Something settles oddly in his stomach, though he can’t find the source of it. He rises from his seat, places a few pieces of coin on the table, and leaves to head upstairs. He wouldn’t partake in the drinks clearly bought for everything. He needs his sleep if he’s to keep searching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet, when he wakes he hardly feels rested. There’s something disturbing the air around him and if not for his trained Lunari senses, he isn’t sure that he would have been able to figure it out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His lips purse as he’s rising from the bed and collecting all of his things. He’s hardly giving himself time to properly step out the door when throwing his cloak over his head and making sure the poison he needs is within grasp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stepping out of the tavern, Aphelios notices that the streets are mostly barren. The golden rays of light have barely started to touch the streets and rooftops. Many have yet to wake. Aphelios’ eyes darken, his pupils dilate, hiding the wine color it has shifted to. He doesn’t waste time before he’s tipping his head back and drinking what he has left of the potion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the same burn as it is every other time. It constricts in his throat, burns within his stomach. The fire shoots through his veins and he can’t help the soft cry of pain, the low groan of discomfort that follows. There is no getting used to a pain that burns the nerves and sears his insides. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>/Aphelios. You must leave. Danger is approaching./</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is no questioning Alune’s words, her warning spoken with panic and an urging that Aphelios would never doubt. His feet carry him quickly off between alleyways, the hood barely staying pulled over his face. He knows that he must hide his tattoos. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>/Phel, to your left!/ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Severum manifests within his hands at the last moment. He raises the blade to counter the cutlass that is brought down with the intention of severing his head. There is little time to consider the situation before he turns skillfully with grace and drags the blade across the body of his attacker. And then he runs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>/Go to the port. You must leave, Aphelios./</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aphelios doesn’t question her direction, leaving the injured and likely dying man before any others could follow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>/He is Noxian. They are invading./</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could have figured it out on his own if the pain that scorches through him allowed him to think properly. The way to the port is convoluted once Aphelios decides to stick to the shadows and alleyways. Screams start to echo in the distance and shouts of anger soon follow. Aphelios can hear distant canonfire and can smell the beginnings of smoke. Dawn turns into morning by the time Aphelios gets himself across the city and closer to the port. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Help!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Somebody help!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aphelios can’t help as he falters in his step, his head turning and raven hair settling in a slight mess from his running. His chest heaves, heart raises, fingers twitch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>/Phel, you mustn’!/ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Aphelios doesn’t take orders from Alune, he takes only her assistance in battle. And so he runs to the sound of the voice. A fire has seemed to have broken out in a small house, the first floor consumed and the flames are licking up the sides of the home. There’s a woman standing in the window, an infant cradled to her chest. There is no time to hesitate as the weapon disappears from his hand to allow him more movement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aphelios leaps onto the stacked pallets beside the house, reaching up and catching onto the ledge of the second story. The woman gladly welcomes him in, assuming correctly that he’s there to help. Her face is one of pure terror, tears running down without pause, and the infant in her arms is screaming mercilessly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No words could be spoken as Aphelios takes the baby with a gentle grasp from the woman. There’s some refusal, but a look from the heather eyes seem to sway her into trusting him. He leads her out, guiding her placement by stepping there first. She follows him shakily, but with determination. Just as they settle upon the ground, the baby back in the arms of whom he belongs to, the flames have reached the second story, angrily sputtering out of the window they’d climbed from. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you. Oh, thank you! May the gods bless you. Thank you!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aphelios shakes his head, motioning for her to leave as this isn’t a safe place for anyone to be. With many more thanks, she’s following his instruction and quickly scurrying down the street where other residents of Ionia have started to flee to. Families scramble out, humans looking ever so frightened. Vastaya look ready to tear flesh, magic sizzling around them as they leave the place they had made home with little of their belongings in hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Lunari hears his sister telling him to follow, though the rushing crowd of Noxians in pursuit of the innocent catches his attention. Infernum settles in his hands as he rushes after them. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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